


Don't Go Home Without Me

by magicianprince



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8570815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicianprince/pseuds/magicianprince
Summary: It isn’t like Touya is shy, really—it’s just that every time he thinks he knows what he’s going to say Yukito fixes him with that soft, fond expression and nothing seems good enough anymore.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloodstonepentagram](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodstonepentagram/gifts).



“I…you…”

Even as the words leave his mouth, Touya knows that this won’t be the last time he’ll say them. Yukito had turned to give him that same cheerful, curious look he always did, which means he hasn’t yet picked up on the pointed looks Touya gives him constantly, which means that there’s no chance of him leaning over and shushing Touya and saying ‘I know’ so that Touya doesn’t have to stumble over his words like this. It isn’t like Touya is _shy_ , really—it’s just that every time he thinks he knows what he’s going to say Yukito fixes him with that soft, fond expression and nothing seems good enough anymore.

They’ve been dancing around each other too long, Touya thinks. He hands Yukito another dish to dry while he ponders over what to say in his head. Yukito accepts the bowl wordlessly, either not noticing or not thinking anything of the way Touya makes sure their fingers brush, and doesn’t speak again until the silence has drawn on for too long.

“What is it, Touya?”

Touya knows how Yukito feels about him; Yukito is friendly by nature and smiles at everyone, even strangers, but Touya pays close enough attention to him to _know_ that there’s something different in the way he acts around Touya. All he has to do is say something. Sakura is upstairs and his father had said this morning that he might not be back until late; he and Yukito are the only ones in the room. Touya stares down at his hands in the sink. 

Yukito leans closer. “Touya?” he asks, genuinely concerned now.

Making up his mind, Touya takes a deep breath. “You—“

The sound of the front door swinging open cuts off whatever Touya had been about to say. “I’m home!” his father’s voice comes from the front entryway. Yukito glances away from Touya’s face for a quick moment, distracted by the interruption.

Touya sighs. “Welcome back,” he calls out in return, and hands Yukito another plate, his gaze lingering on the places that their hands touch despite himself.

:

“Oh,” Yukito says later, once they’ve gone up to Touya’s room. “Touya, you had your hair cut?”

Touya runs a hand through the back of it absent-mindedly, sitting down on his bed. “Yeah, this afternoon.”

The sky outside is dark outside already. Touya considers getting the extra futon before his father and Sakura have gone to bed so there’s no chance of disturbing them. He and Yukito will stay up later, talking like they usually do, but—

Yukito startles him out of his thoughts by sitting next to him, close but not as close as Touya would like. He reaches up and touches the ends of Touya’s hair where Touya’s fingers had just been, gentle. “Aren’t you trying to save up?” he asks, frowning a little.

“Yeah,” Touya says, closes his eyes with a small smile. Yukito’s touch lingers—it’s moments like these that used to make Touya unsure, because Yukito does these things so nonchalantly that it’s easy to misunderstand. 

“I can do it for you next time,” Yukito offers unexpectedly. His voice seems softer, somehow.

“You’ve cut hair before?”

Yukito makes a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat and drops his hand back to the bed. “Well…I’ve only ever cut my own. But it would save you some money.”

“Then that would be great,” Touya tells him. “Thank you.”

Yukito gives him one of those fond looks that always makes Touya feel tongue-tied. Touya thinks about leaning forward into Yukito’s side, pressing his face into Yukito’s shoulder. He thinks about Yukito touching his hair again while gentle, quiet laughter shakes up through his shoulders. Words linger on the tip of his tongue—but they’re not right, not yet.

“Let’s set up the extra futon,” he suggests instead.

:

It’s both the weekend and Sakura’s turn to make breakfast, and so Touya has the luxury of keeping his eyes closed when he’s first awoken the next morning by Sakura’s footsteps pounding down the stairs. He doesn’t have work until after dinner, but eventually his internal clock catches up with him and he rolls over with a sigh, opening his eyes to the bright morning light flooding his room.

Yukito, stretched out on the spare futon on the floor, has his blanket pulled up over his face so that only a tuft of unruly silver hair sticks out. Touya props himself up on one elbow and tries not to laugh.

“Yuki,” he calls, keeping his voice low just in case Yukito is still asleep.

Yukito shuffles a little under the blanket but doesn’t respond otherwise, dreams apparently undisturbed by the sunlight pouring over him from the windows thanks to the thick blanket. Touya’s gaze shifts to the door. He tries to step as noiselessly as possible when he slides out of bed, heading downstairs to where the smell of pancakes is strongest.

Sakura is at the stove carefully laying her third pancake onto a plate with a spatula. “Morning, monster,” Touya says, ruffling her hair with one hand. 

Sakura turns around and makes a face at him. “Morning,” she grumbles. 

Touya begins to yawn, covering his mouth. Sakura squirms nervously before speaking up again.

“Is…is Yukito-san still here?” she says hesitantly.

“Nah,” Touya replies. “He left in the middle of the night.”

Sakura’s face falls for a moment before she perks back up and fixes him with a glare. “You’re teasing me!”

Touya sticks out his tongue. Sakura gives a little ‘hmph!’ and then starts to reach up to the cabinet where the plates are. Touya opens it for her and hands her the biggest plate they own, messing up her hair a second time while he’s at it.

As if on cue, Yukito comes downstairs, holding his glasses in one hand and rubbing his eyes tiredly with the other. Sakura stares determinedly down at the pancake she’s working on, cheeks reddening.

Yukito wrinkles his nose slightly as he puts his glasses on, adjusting them and then smiling at Sakura and Touya. “Good morning,” he says, voice a little rough from sleep.

Touya loves mornings like this almost more than he’s willing to admit.

:

After they’ve set the table, Sakura runs upstairs to fetch their dad. Touya sits down across from Yukito to wait, watching absentmindedly as Yukito eyes his towering stack of pancakes with interest. The large plate is always a good call; Yukito can eat as much as the rest of the family put together and more. 

“I have work tonight,” Touya begins, “but if you wanted to stay over again, I’m sure my dad wouldn’t mind.”

Yukito raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Touya replies. “Only if you wouldn’t mind hanging out with Sakura for a while.”

“I’d love to,” Yukito tells him, and Touya never even has to wonder if he really means it.

:

This time, Touya dries while Yukito scrubs at each dish, soap on his hands. This position is one of many routines—shoulders barely touching, side by side, a comfortable silence. Touya watches as Yukito starts cleaning the huge plate that is unofficially his and decides to stop thinking.

“I really like you, you know,” he says.

Yukito’s hands still. Touya glances to the side in order to watch his reaction, nervous even though logically he knows he doesn’t have to be. Yukito half-turns in order to look at him with wide brown eyes, plate still clutched in his fingers. 

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” he asks, surprised by Touya’s short confession somehow, as if Touya wouldn’t do anything to stay with him, no matter what. His mouth is spreading into a slow smile. 

Touya feels his own expression tug up into a grin in response. He lets out a huff of laughter, feeling light. “You know what?” he says. “I don’t even know.”

He takes the plate from Yukito’s hands. Just like he always, he lets their fingers brush.

**Author's Note:**

> hi so i found this fic i wrote literally two years ago for a friend and somehow never posted?? writing secret: wait two years to look at what you've written and then you will like it


End file.
